Aztheroth
by Phantasmic Ink
Summary: This story follows the young Belyse, an elf, into a massive adventure full of action, drama, and a lot of love mixed with an overlord's plan to rule the world. Sound familiar? It's not.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One  
Septumes 25, E25AD

The war has begun. Like fire, a massive horde has swept through Aztheroth and killed all; consuming and destroying, and leaving nothing behind. However, this story is of a huntsman, who is right now requesting audience at the king's court.

Belyse walked slowly and nobly down the great hall, his face void of expression, deep in thought. He glanced around, his subconscious mapping out the castle. The great hall was a clean white marble, with red and purple silk draping the sturdy oak tables, hanging upon the colored-glass windows, and rolled carefully along the floor leading to the high chair, which was a brilliant gold, and in which King Arnan was sitting quite comfortably. There were countless weapons hung upon the spotless walls, each shining so brightly it almost hurt the eyes, and underneath each piece was a sparkling glass case with priceless objects neatly set inside.

"Rise, young Belyse, and speak to your King." Belyse had reached the king and was kneeling before him, his head bowed in respect.

"Noble king, I beg you to take your royal guard and help to destroy these… These beasts, who plunder our villages and kill every living thing they come across. Your guard easily outmatches them, but they need a commander. Instead of risking your life, I would be honored to take up this mantle. I have commanded many before, and am perfectly able and willing to do so again." Belyse said, his eyes meeting the king's.

"Who is this man, who enters my court with such an imprudent and foolhardy proposition?" demanded Arnan, "Do you not think that I have had the same thoughts, and countless times have these been thwarted by my tactician?"

Belyse was a young elf at the age of only seven hundred years, dark-blue and taller than a man. His yellow eyes seemed to pierce your very soul, and his bluish-purple hair was long and straight. He was a master hunter and tactician, his eyes well-adjusted to the night. His deep voice was clear and strong, and his muscles seemed to almost rip his shirt in two. His long and pointy ears protruded from any hat he wore, which some thought a little funny. He was a fan of longbows and elven swords, two of which were currently being held by the court's defenders. The equally large and muscled tiger beside him was used mostly as a good persuasive mechanism, though the cat had to eat_ sometime_. After Belyse had found and adopted the tiger as a pet, there seemed to be fewer and fewer deer and elk in Ugar's Forest, where he lived.

Belyse, in general, was a very sweet and caring person, healing and helping wherever he could. When the occasion called for it, however, he was an extremely frightening figure. Not without good reason: Whenever he was attacked, all that was left was blood and little pieces, completely unrecognizable. The only scars he has ever acquired, which seem to only be on his arms and legs, are from his pet.

"I thought you would have, but your tactician hasn't talked to _me_." said the elf.

"And why would he speak to you?" asked Arnan, quizically. At this, Belyse recounted his plans of attack to the king, Arnan's eyebrows moving farther upward the longer the conversation went on, "I have but a handful of my Royal Guard, and the horde's massive numbers will completely crush us." Belyse pointed to a spot on the map in front of them.

"We will wait there." The elf bowed, and turned on his heels and walked away, grabbing his bow and sword on the way out. The cat, after watching a tasty mouse squeak by, followed its master.

Belyse was crouching behind a bush in Ugar's forest, observing his future dinner. Slowly, silently, still watching the animal graze upon the grass, he drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. Raising his bow so slowly it was almost painful, he drew back the string, aiming carefully. He kept unmoving, almost not breathing, almost ready to fire. Without warning, an orc came charging from behind, his footfalls so heavy they shook the ground, and his sword point aiming right for Belyse's heart. The elf wheeled around and fired, missed, stood up quickly, turned on his heel and unsheathed his sword, parrying the attack just in time. He then came around with a swift counterattack, letting the brute's head fall to the ground. He whistled for his cat, but the only thing that came was a large group of orcs. They surrounded him, encircling him, studying him. He waited for the first to attack, planning out his strategy carefully. Then one charged, and he parried the weapon with effortlessness. It was too easy… Something was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Septumes 26, E25AD

Belyse was falling, and he realized he couldn't move. He glanced down and saw, to his horror, a gleaming red sword protruding from exactly where his heart was. He hit the ground with a solid thud as everything went to darkness.

Nie us pone, os noct atrum,  
_Black as ink, the night portrays,_  
Visum lasus isthi suum,  
_Visions of the later days,_  
Ista es, distsir vis lien,  
_Seeing nigh, the sky so clear,_  
Vir stri vos, siv curs ras veen,  
_May thy voice, the bright stars hear,_  
Ashlansen, sos vel mos neis,  
_Ashlansen, whom elves will seek,_  
Nim ad vos pervit sin rees,  
_See thee through this life so bleak,_  
Sur tum loss, vistin son this,  
_O'er the hills, throughout this night,_  
Meus rem vo, lest rus son viss,  
_My path to thee, thy stars may light,_  
Us in son, desvar sol nun,  
_As I sing, the day shall sleep,_  
Is rarrenssen ul pas len sun,  
_This lullaby sung to the weak,_  
In sos val, per elven lac,  
_And the strong, with elven words,_  
Tos mus vad las suum vallas  
_All let fall their shields and swords_

The elf awoke from his dream, gasping for air, the elven lullaby his mother sung to him as a child still ringing in his ears. "That dream," he said aloud. "I've had it before. Why?" And with that and a few moments thought, he fell back into a deep sleep. However much the elf tried to deny such things as "destiny" and "faith", that dream and a man named Raydin would change his forever.

Raydin was what most people would consider a warlock. He was as intelligent as a mage in the art of magic, but as demented as a necromancer with powers of summoning. He was a man at the age of 25, tall and muscular, however not quite as so as Belyse. His face was thin, and his beard was a light brown. He also seemed to have a nice tan around his body, though most didn't have time to study his body. They, for the most part, were being ripped to shreds by his demon before they even laid eyes upon him. He was a _very_ talented demonologist.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Raydin was standing upon a house, shouting at the village below. He looked around quickly. "Tough crowd." He jumped down, kicked a dead body aside, and shrugged. Raydin proceeded to walk out of the burning town; but before he did so, he removed the population sign and drew his face on the stone wall. He then summoned his demon and walked down a small path leading through a bright-looking forest. The warlock read the sign in front of it: Ugar's Forest. And below that: Beware of cat. "Beware of _warlock_." He said, smiling; he burned the sign to ashes.

Belyse awoke the next morning yawning and stetching. He had almost forgotten about the dream previously. He looked around as he got dressed. It was a small wooden bedroom in a small wooden house that Belyse had built himself. He called the house a "cabin", after the name for cut wood in the gnomish language. The house had three rooms: A kitchen, a study, and a bedroom. It was furnished with only the necessities: A wooden table in the kitchen, a few chairs around the place, a bookshelf, a fireplace, a few portraits nailed to the walls, and last but not least, a large bed made of solid oak with silken sheets and a feathery down. A comfortable but sturdy bed, in which the elf had just vacated, and above which an astrolabe was hanging.

Belyse strode outside and picked up both his bow and sword and walked into the forest from his little clearing. His intentions, like every morning, were to the southeast. He walked upon a narrow pathway for about an hour before he reached his hides, which were being cured. Like always, the place reeked of urine, feces, and rotting flesh. He checked the hides over and decided they could go another week or so. He then continued along the path to his favorite hunting spot.

Raydin had found a house two hours or so down the road. Or what looked like a house. It was small and shabby, made of wood. Weak. He found a sign out "front" and read it: Belyse's cabin. Beware of cat. "Cabin?" he asked aloud, "A cabin made of logs? A log cabin! Ha!" And with that he proceeded inside the house, smiling all the while.

The elf had found his spot at the heart of Ugar's Forest. He crouched behind a bush, hidden from sight, watching a doe graze some five or six feet in front of him. He aimed his bow: steady, almost unmoving, almost ready to fire. A sudden movement to his left caught his eye; it was his cat, yawning silently as he watched his master with bored eyes. He turned his gaze back to the doe and again saw a sudden movement to his left. The big cat had seen a mouse, and was silently moving toward it, away from Belyse. The elf didn't entirely care, they both could handle many things alone. He again turned his attention back to the doe.

Raydin's demon had caught a scent, and both demon and master were moving quickly towards the source. They had already passed by a load of hides being tanned. The place reeked so much they almost lost the trail. Raydin sensed he was getting closer to whatever left this scent, and he was never wrong. Or, at least when he was, he wasn't for long. He made things go his way.

Belyse heard a loud noise behind him. Then another, then another. He wheeled around and let loose his arrow, which stuck right in the center of a massive orc's head. "Orcs?" he asked to himself, "_Here_? How? Why?" He slowly unsheathed his sword, but the elf couldn't shake the feeling he had been here before; that he had done this before. But how? He whistled for his cat and realized, an instant later, that he was surrounded by five of the brutes. Something was very, very wrong


End file.
